They continued on while salt tang filled her nostrils and the sound of crashing waves below played like music on the moist breeze. This land was as tumultuous as the sea and just as dangerous, with mossy peaks and crannies, and slippery slopes that promised certain death with one wrong turn.
Finally the cliffs fell away, leaving the troop on a grassy crest overlooking a remote haven nestled beneath the giant slopes of Sgurr Na Stri and the craggy bulk of Bla Bheinn to the north. Directly below them were rolling moors carpeted in lush lavender heather. Sheep dotted the sunlit vale, and cattle grazed amid cozy thatched-roof bothys strewn across the grass. To the west of the glen, a wide loch spewed small frothy caps along a pebbled beach where children played.
“Camlochlin Castle.” Callum reined his mount closer to Kate and pointed down into the glen.
The fortress must have been built of the same stone as the mountain behind it, for it blended into the landscape so neatly she doubted she would have even noticed it there had Callum not pointed it out to her.
Kate longed to push on ahead and enter this vast, separated land Callum called his home. The men did not move toward it, and just when she was about to question them about why they were not rushing home, the sun began its short descent. Golden rays of light were captured in the mist above the mountains. The sky exploded into flames of bronze and yellow, while the curtain wall before her grew even darker, casting shadows over the land. Splashes of gold fell upon the loch, turning white caps a frothy ochroid.
“I want to go there,” Kate breathed on a longing sigh, then turned to Callum. “Now.”
Callum held her gaze with his own and wondered at the way she worked at chiseling away his defenses. He’d never planned on bringing a woman here to share his life. He had neither the time nor the heart for such watery notions. But if he was going to entertain thoughts of taking a wife, she would be a woman who loved his home as much as he did. A woman who could see beyond the veil of the unyielding and the impenetrable and appreciate the beauty of a land that spoke to the heart alone. Aye, and mayhap she would even be able to see something good in him beneath the beast he had become.
He swallowed back the unwanted desires Kate Campbell stirred in him, but they returned full force when she slanted her smile at him and then kicked her mount into a full gallop.
The men followed her down the steep heather incline, but before Callum let loose his reins, he watched the back of Kate’s slight form racing toward his home as if it were her own.
With a heart that felt lighter than it had in years, he set his eyes on his castle and his heels to his mount. Within seconds he thundered past Kate and his men as if they were pausing to admire the scenery.
The celebration of their return began even before Kate and the others reached the castle, when Angus popped the cork off a fresh pouch of brew and, in an uncommon gesture of generosity, passed it around. After a long swig of the potent spirit, Kate shuddered all the way to her kneecaps, then set her eyes on Camlochlin’s laird. He had reined in just before entering the pasture and then turned his horse back toward the others, his smile wide and beautiful, his long hair streaming across his shoulders.
There was happiness in Callum’s life, and it was here. Kate was thankful for it. She wanted to be a part of it.
Aye, Callum was happy to return home, but ’twas the joy in Kate’s eyes and the tenderness of her smile that exhilarated him.
He lived his life with a single purpose, to avenge what had been done to him, his clan, his sister. He’d hated who he had become—until he saw himself through Kate’s eyes. He despised the memories that haunted him, but just looking at her made him forget. At first he had fought her effect on him because she was a Campbell. Then he fought it because she could never be his—and live. Hell, leaving her in that bed at the inn had nearly driven him mad. But they were far away from the world now, far from the law. Somehow she had come to mean more to him than revenge, more than a quick tumble to quench his desire. His heart longed for the redemption she offered him. His body ached to hold her. He looked over his shoulder at Camlochlin. His sanctuary. But so much was missing from his life. He had no notion of how to find what would make him whole again, or even if ’twere possible. He was an outlaw, a murderer, a monster. But Kate Campbell saw something more.
He flicked his reins.
When he reached her, he leaned forward in his saddle, coiled his arm around her waist, and heaved her onto his lap. He offered her no explanation as he gazed deep into her questioning eyes. He could barely think at all. Instead, he stroked the soft contour of her cheek, then slipped his hand behind her nape and bent his mouth to hers. She did not resist him. He knew she wouldn’t. Her lips parted on a sigh of sweet surrender that made his whole body go rigid and melt at the same time. His tongue swept deeply, intimately into her mouth, tasting her and letting her taste him in return. Plunging his hand within her hair, he tilted back her head while the other drew her closer. He kissed her with exquisite thoroughness, ravishing her softness until she fell back, limp in his arms.
He lifted his head and slid his gaze over her glorious face while she hiccupped and smiled at him. And all at once he knew ’twas not only her heart with which he should have been more careful.
Chapter Nineteen
CALLUM COULD NOT HELP but smile as he stepped into Camlochlin with Kate clutched to his arm. He should be angry with Angus for feeding her Gillis’s poison, but he liked the way she pressed herself against him. He knew she held on so tightly to keep herself from stumbling, for the whiskey was potent indeed. But her rather submissive position would also work at easing some of the tension sure to come when he told Camlochlin’s inhabitants who she was.
He looked around at the squires and vassals rushing to help his men disarm. Baths were already being prepared to wash away weeks of dirt and grime, and somewhere close by, Callum heard Old Keddy the cook shouting for a dozen fat hens to be slaughtered in celebration of the laird’s return. Brodie’s wife, Netta, heavy with child, came barreling down the long stairway and near leapt into her husband’s arms. Graham was besotted with kisses from Rabbie the tanner’s twin daughters, Glenna and Lizabeth.
Callum drank in the sights and sounds of his home like a man parched by the sun. He knew the face of every man, woman, and bairn who greeted him. Familiar scents of smoky peat and burning tallow wax fragranced his nostrils. He drew in a deeper breath, letting it comfort his restless spirit. Aye, Heaven.
His gaze dropped to Kate. ’Twould not be Heaven for her. When his kin learned that she was a Campbell, and naught but a captive to him, they would treat her unkindly. Some might even try to cause her harm. At the thought of it, his heart seized with the need to protect and shelter what was his. But she was not his, his mind reminded him.
“Who’s the lass, then, Laird?” someone called out as if to drive the truth of it home.
Best to get it the hell over with, Callum thought, involuntarily pulling Kate closer. “This is Katherine Campbell,” he shouted so that all could hear. People stopped what they were doing and gathered ’round him, some already whispering offense at her name. Callum’s expression went hard. “She’ll be brought nae harm here, understood?”
The mumbling soon died down, but there were questions aplenty. Callum felt Kate slip against his arm and wondered if she was even aware of all the faces staring at her.
“Did ye snatch her from her home, Laird?”
“What d’ye plan to do wi’ her?”
Hell, she wasn’t completely oblivious to what was being said, Callum realized when she lifted her head from his arm.
“She looks dimwitted. Is she simple, then?”
“Nae,” Callum replied succinctly while he carefully fit his hand over Kate’s mouth. He’d felt the slight tightening of her shoulders and knew she was about to let his clan find out what a fearless little hellion she was. No MacGregor took kindly to being insulted, and especially by a Campbell. “She’s drunk.”
